


Sunday Morning, Rain is Falling

by celticdreamz



Series: Everything's Changed [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/M, Mentions of Rape, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of prior abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticdreamz/pseuds/celticdreamz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria lets Steve in on some of <i>her</i> Level 9 secrets. (Trigger warnings: mentions of prior abuse, rape/assault, and PTSD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning, Rain is Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I fully realize that abuse, rape, and the PTSD that comes with aren't subjects that should be taken, or used, lightly. I've thought long and hard whether or not to even go into much detail about Hill's past, but these events are what have made her who she is. It goes without saying that she uses her past as a barrier to try and keep anyone from getting too close. Including, and especially, Steve.

It was hard to pin down exactly what it was that woke Maria up the next morning: the sound of rain tapping against the glass windows, the lingering scent of Old Spice, her raging hangover, or the fact she wasn't alone in her bed. A soft snore to her six o'clock damn near had her jumping out of her skin, but she managed to roll over without shaking the bed too much. Laying on his side, facing away from her was none other than … 

Oh, shit.

Her mind immediately went into overdrive trying to piece together what'd happened the night before. There'd been that kiss in the garage after she'd finally agreed to be his girl. She remembered most of the birthday party, including their dance together. The game of watered-down-Asgardian-mead pong was hazy, and anything after that was mostly a blur. Except for her uncharacteristically throwing herself at him. Yeah, that was awkward. Really awkward. Crawl under the carpet and die awkward. What if they… 

Double shit.

One quick sheet check later, and Maria breathed a sigh of relief. She was still wearing what constituted as pajamas: cotton boyshort panties and an oversized t-shirt. Steve was semi-clothed as well in a white tank undershirt and boxers. Well, that certainly answered the "briefs or shorts" question. 

Maria slowly eased herself out of bed. Both because she didn't want to wake Steve, but also because of her raging hangover. That was the last time she was drinking Asgardian anything. No wonder Thor could toss back bottles of regular beer like they were soda. She then gathered up a fresh change of clothes, again trying to be quiet, and snuck off to the bathroom.

The sound of the shower and the lack of Maria laying next to him were what woke Steve up, and he vaguely wondered if he'd made the right move last night. She'd been right about there not being any kind of strategy for courtship. At least that hadn't really changed much from his day. He closed his eyes, breathed in the scent that clung to her sheets, and tried to keep the rest of his blood supply from surging to the front of his shorts.

Taking a shower wasn't a bad idea, especially a super cold one. Except that he hated feeling like he was sneaking out behind Maria's back. She deserved better than that. Finally, he decided that fixing breakfast would probably help smooth things over with her.

The water was still running as he walked past the bathroom door and out into the more public areas of her apartment. It didn't surprise him that her taste in decorating was mostly modern. Dark wooden floors were hidden here and there by white area rugs. The sofa and chaise were sleek and also white, with turquoise throw pillows. A corner of his lips turned upwards thinking they were the exact shade of Maria's eyes. 

But the kitchen made him frown. 

It looked like it had never been used in the entire time since she'd moved in. Yes, he knew that Maria liked her life neat and orderly, but he didn't think she was that meticulous. The stainless steel stove didn't have so much as a single fingerprint smudge or grease spot. Steve pulled open the door of the fridge, looking for breakfast food such as bacon and/or eggs. What he found were neat rows of water bottles, different flavors of Gatorade, neatly arranged containers of fruits and veggies, a drawer containing an assortment of cold cuts, and a few take-out boxes all labeled (presumably) with the date she'd purchased them. It was obvious that Maria was anything but a chef. Had no one ever taught her how to cook?

Steam filled the shower enclosure, and Maria was honestly weighing the pros and cons of simply staying in the bathroom all day. Except that wasn't really her style. Hiding from problems didn't make them go away. Sooner or later, she'd have to be in the same room with Steve. So, she figured that it might as well be sooner and to just get it over with. 

After turning off the water, and popping a couple of ibuprofen for her headache, Maria changed into a pair of jeans and gray USMC t-shirt. She wasn't out to impress anyone, and so didn't bother with any makeup. 

The apartment was quiet when she exited the bathroom. That wasn't unusual, but she had been halfway expecting Steve to at least be walking around and trying to pretend that things weren't awkward as hell between them. She thought maybe he was still asleep, but the queen sized bed was empty. More than that, he had remade it complete with hospital corners and everything. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had gone out of their way for her like that.

"Sonuvabitch," she half laughed and shook her head.

"Good morning, Ms. Hill," JARVIS greeted her. "Captain Rogers has asked that you join him for breakfast. You'll find a cup of coffee awaiting you in the kitchen."

"Can you pull up any of the Triskelion's security footage?"

"I am afraid not. The SHIELD encryption --"

"Nevermind," Maria muttered and walked towards the kitchen and the promised cup of coffee.

"Were you looking for something in particular?"

"A reminder that Rogers can be a badass when he wants to be."

"Ahh. Yes, of course. I do have some footage from the helicarrier during the Chitauri invasion, if you think that would be of some help."

Maria snorted. "You only have that video because Stark bugged the bridge."

"Indeed," came the almost-wry retort. "What Mr. Stark does with my programming is entirely out of my hands, as it were."

"Then maybe you need to convince him to make you some actual hands one of these days," she snarked back.

The coffee in the stainless steel travel mug was still warm, and she blinked in surprise at the taste. She honestly couldn't remember a time when she'd fixed a cup of coffee around Steve, and yet, he knew exactly how much French vanilla creamer and sugar to add to it.

The scent of bacon had already filled the hallway between their apartments, and Maria's stomach none too politely reminded her that she hadn't eaten since the night before. She didn't bother waiting for an answer to her knock on his door since he was expecting her.

"Steve…?"

"In here," he called from the kitchen.

His apartment was reminiscent of the SHIELD safe house they'd put him up in after his de-icing, and his apartment in DC. But there were a few modern touches that didn't seem to fit. A flat screen TV hung on one wall facing an over-stuffed leather couch. Several video game consoles, and their accessories, were arranged neatly on the wooden entertainment center underneath. The walls had been painted a comfortable shade of beige and displayed vintage pictures of New York in the Forties as well as some framed, hand-drawn pieces she assumed were his own works. Even the kitchen seemed like something straight out of _I Love Lucy_ with its retro white enameled stove and matching fridge. A cathedral style radio sat on one counter, filling the room with music from another era.

"Glenn Miller?"

Steve turned to her with a stunned look. "You've heard of him?"

"Don't look so surprised," she replied. "Not everyone listens to Megadeth and Ozzy Osbourne."

"Who…?"

"Nevermind." She exhaled a breath before continuing. "There used to be an old music teacher that lived downstairs from me growing up. He would let me crash on his couch when things with Dad got too … intense. Taught me about jazz and how different bands had different sounds. He even had me sit down and watch that old Jimmy Stewart movie to prove his point."

A smile crossed Steve's face and he held out an arm towards her. She just raised an eyebrow at him in return.

"What? I don't get a good morning hug?"

Why the hell was it so hard for her to tell him 'no'?! N.O. Two tiny little letters. That was it. But her mouth refused to form the word. Instead, she found herself wrapped up in his arms and breathing in his warm, comforting scent. 

"You okay?" he asked, running a hand up and down her back.

"Yeah," Maria replied, and pulled out of the embrace. "Exactly how drunk was I last night?"

"Not that bad," Steve answered and turned back to the stove with a shrug.

"Define 'not that bad'."

There was a long pause before he finally turned to her. "You asked me to sleep with you, and then you slammed the door in my face when I turned you down. But that was after you gave me one helluva good-night kiss."

Maria closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath. "That still doesn't explain how you ended up in my bed."

"I thought maybe I'd screwed up. Big time. So, I went back." He could just about hear the sound of ice forming around her heart again. "But, I promise, nothing happened. I'm not that naive to not know what you meant. I hope you realize that. And I hope you know that I'd never take advantage of you."

"No," she snorted. "You'd just make my bed for me, fix a cup of coffee exactly how I like it, and then cook breakfast."

Steve shot her a look. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I say that like you've been in intelligence too long," she retorted. "How did you know about the way I make my bed and how I like my coffee anyway?"

"You mean the hospital corners? Learned that in basic training. Same as you. After a few years of making up racks, it gets to be a habit. Am I right?" Maria nodded mutely, and he continued. "As for the coffee, I just asked JARVIS. Figured out of anyone, he would know and wouldn't look at me funny for asking."

"I'm sorry, Steve. I just --"

"Don't know how to be someone's girl," he finished for her. "I get that. And I'm sorry too, if I went a little overboard. I just didn't want this to be over before it got started."

"I know," she sighed. "And I'm not angry at you. I guess I'm just mad at myself more than anything."

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong."

"No? I just got drunk and then made a complete ass of myself."

"No, you didn't, Maria," he argued gently. "You kissed me and that was it. If you'd tried ripping my shirt off, then I might say you'd made an ass of yourself."

"Thank God that didn't happen," she half-laughed/half-snorted.

"I don't know about that," he continued to tease her. "Who knows? I might've let you."

Maria could only stare at him. "Who the hell taught you how to flirt?"

"Let's see… Both Natasha and Clint have been giving me pointers, and Sam wanted to send me to remedial training."

That made her laugh. "At least you weren't getting any advice from Stark."

"Oh, I was. I just decided it was probably a good idea to do exactly the opposite of what he said."

"Smart man," Maria replied, and saluted him with her coffee cup.

Breakfast was served and eaten at the dining table that wouldn't have been out of place on the _Leave It To Beaver_ set. It wasn't the first time she'd broken bread with Steve. They had shared a few meals in the Triskelion chow hall, and ordered in on nights when she was mentoring him on Twenty-First Century 101. 

"I didn't realize you cooked," she remarked and took a bite of toast.

Steve shrugged. "Mom taught me the basics before her TB got too bad."

"Still, better than me."

"You don't cook?"

"Can't," Maria replied, and took a deep breath. She had warned him that she was broken. Damaged goods. And she decided it was time to read him in on some of _her_ Level 9 secrets. "I literally cannot go near a stove with the intention of cooking without having some kind of anxiety attack."

Hearing the serious tone in her voice, Steve set aside his empty plate and utensils. "Why…?"

"My father was a functioning alcoholic," she answered. "More like barely functioning. He took Mom's dying after I was born really hard and dived right into the nearest bottle. I don't think he ever bothered climbing back out again.

"He'd come home from work, by way of the nearest bar, and expect me to have dinner on the table. I had no idea how to cook. I didn't have the first damn clue how to read recipes. Hell, I couldn't be trusted to make box mix mac-and-cheese without nearly setting the stove on fire."

_"Goddammit, Maria! Can't you do anything right?!"_

_She'd been nine at the time and barely tall enough to see into the pot on the stove. How was she supposed to know when the water was boiling? She'd barely been strong enough to lift a potful of water onto the stove in the first place._

_"I'm sorry!"_

_At least she had the presence of mind to turn off the eye before things got out of hand. Except she wasn't fast enough to evade her father. Before she could react, he had flung her across the kitchen. She'd hit the wall so hard that it had broken her nose. It wasn't the first time she'd suffered that kind of injury, and it wasn't the last. She was surprised she could still smell anything._

Steve watched as her eyes took on a vague and far-away gaze. He knew the signs of PTSD when he saw them, but he wasn't sure if he should bring her back to the present or not. He, himself, had struggled with flashes of past memories that he couldn't escape. Getting back into action had helped, as had talking to Natasha. 

"Maria…?" He frowned when she didn't respond, and he mentally kicked himself for asking about her cooking skills in the first place. "Maria?"

The second time she heard her name, she was able to pull herself back to the present. "I'm sorry. What were you saying…?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, smiled gently, and started gathering the breakfast dishes. "Why don't I wash and you dry?"

"Has no one ever shown you how to load a dishwasher?"

"Yeah, but there are still some things I like doing by hand."

She just shrugged and followed him into the kitchen. 

"How are you doing now that you're not with SHIELD anymore?" Steve asked while scrubbing one of the pans he'd used earlier. "That couldn't have been easy for you to just walk away like that."

"It actually wasn't as hard as you think," she replied from her seat on the counter. "I was ready for a change. Don't get me wrong. I still catch myself stressing about things that aren't my problem anymore. It's been hard for me to let go of solving the world's crises after I've been doing it for so long. But every time I'm called on the Congressional carpet, I remember why I left. Politics and politicians are the absolute bane of my existence."

A small smile crossed her lips. "I think the biggest difference has been getting used to the eight-to-five world. Yeah, my office is only a few floors away, but I can walk away from it at the end of the day. I can actually rest and recharge when I get home. What about you? How are you coping with everything? I know you were kind of at loose ends when you first came back."

Steve was quiet for a long moment before handing her the pan to dry and starting on the second one. "You know how it is for a soldier to suddenly not have orders to follow or missions to go on. SHIELD helped me readjust to the world, and losing that was harder than I thought. It helped me feel normal again, but it isn't as bad this time around. I'm better at navigating this century than I was before. But this still doesn't feel like home."

Maria nodded as she wiped at the pan with a dish cloth. "I know what you mean. No place has ever felt like home to me. Not even the apartment where I grew up. The dorms I had at Oak Ridge and then the Point never felt like _mine_. Same with the barracks when I was in the Corps. I had quarters, places where I lived, where I slept, but no real home. 

"I drove Pepper insane when it came to decorating my apartment here," she added. "I had zero design taste. I was so used to steel and glass and various shades of either blue or black that I didn't know where to start. I was more interested in function over form. I'd never been interested in how something _looked_ or if it matched anything else. I still don't really give a shit about how my apartment's aesthetics so long as it functions as a living space."

An amused, but wry, look crossed his face, but Steve just shook his head and rinsed the soap off the pan he'd been scrubbing.

"What?" Maria asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he chuckled as though laughing at an inside joke. She flashed him a look, and he relented. "It's just I was talking to Natasha on the way to Camp Lehigh on our last mission. Told her it was kinda hard finding someone with shared life experience."

"Yeah, well. I bet you never got the shit beat out of you."

"Actually, I did. Just not by my dad," Steve answered, handing her the second pan. "You forget. Before the serum, I was a ninety-five pound asthmatic who hated bullies, and I never backed down from a fight. Bucky had to patch me up more than once before I could go home or else Mom would pull a rather epic mother hen act."

"You miss him, don't you? Bucky."

"Yeah. Even more now that I know he's alive." She watched his strong hands work to scrub off the last remaining bit of egg from a plate. "Having to leave him behind in Europe was bad enough. I hated thinking he might not get a decent burial back in the States. Everyone kept telling me it wasn't my fault. But I was the one who led the mission. It was up to me to get everyone back in one piece, and I failed…"

His voice trailed off when he felt a hand on his arm, and he looked up to see a sympathetic look cross Maria's face. "Been there. Done that, soldier."

"Yeah, I guess you have."

Funny to think that his quip, his throw-away wish, had been right under his nose. He'd always been attracted to Maria. Not only was she beautiful, but she didn't take any flack from anyone. He'd always admired strong dames, both on the silver screen and off.

Before he'd agreed to sign on with SHIELD, he'd wanted to know more about the person who'd be giving him orders. He'd wanted to know he could trust her. Both Barton and Romanoff had been encouraging on the subject. When he asked Director Fury about whether or not he trusted Maria, his answer had been a firm "with my life." That had been good enough for Steve.

The rest of the dishes were washed, dried and put away in relative silence. Both were preoccupied with their thoughts. Maria had never been much of a domestic person, but watching him prepare a meal and then clean up afterwards reminded her that Steve wasn't just an asset or a super soldier; he was a person. He had thoughts and feelings just like everyone else she'd served with. He was intelligent, resourceful, but what surprised her the most was the fact that… 

He liked her.

Steve caught the look on her face and raised an eyebrow. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I still think you're insane," she snorted softly. "For wanting to date me."

"And I still think you need to stop selling yourself short," he replied, taking the dish towel from her and laying it across the edge of the sink. "Despite everything that's happened to you, Maria, you're still a good person."

"Am I?" She crossed her arms, and leaned against the counter. "I've killed people, Steve."

"So have I."

"Ever killed one of your own?"

The question made him pause and frown. "What do you mean?"

"I was attacked, assaulted, whatever you want to call it, when I was in Afghanistan," she answered. Maria never could bring herself to use the word 'rape'. It made her want to hurl. "I don't guess I have to tell you what happens to a female when she's around a bunch of drunken assholes who are hopped up on rank and testosterone."

Steve said nothing. A crease appeared between his eyebrows and a muscle ticked in his clenched jaw.

"What made it worse was that I knew what would happen to me if I reported it through proper channels. He'd come out smelling like a rose, and I'd be transferred if not out-and-out dismissed for 'conduct unbecoming'. So I did the only thing I could think of.

"I was in Intelligence at the time," Maria continued, more to middle distance than to Steve's face. "I knew where the hotspots were. Which roads hadn't been cleared of IEDs. So, I got him reassigned to an area I knew damn well was a kill zone. Out of a ten-man team, three were dead, five critical, and two were left to evac their buddies back to base. He was one of the ones who didn't make it."

"Maria…"

She seemed not to have heard him. "My CO was beyond pissed about what'd happened, but of course, I couldn't say why I'd sent him out there to die. Six hours later, I was off the Marine Corps payroll and express airmailed to Madripoor where I started working for SHIELD. That's how I met Coulson and Fury."

It was the first time she'd told that story to anyone. That was probably the biggest skeleton in her closet, and she'd flung it in Steve's face as an attempt to make him see just how fucked up she really was. He couldn't possibly want her now that he knew her deepest, darkest secret. 

Except that she had completely underestimated him.

Strong arms pulled her against his chest, and somehow, it completely broke her. Maria wasn't a crier by nature. It had taken some serious acting on her part to sell Fury's "death". Steve hadn't touched her, hadn't said two words to her the whole time they were at the hospital. But that'd been before she'd given him permission to care about her by agreeing to be his girl.

Hoarse, ugly sobs wracked her frame, but he still didn't let her go. She had never felt so raw, so exposed, so vulnerable before in her life. Somehow, Steve seemed to understand that, and lent her as much of his super soldier strength as she needed. He said nothing, and didn't try to tell her everything would be okay. Slowly, her sobs subsided, but not before she'd completely soaked the front of his t-shirt with her tears and snot.

"Maria, look at me." Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was red, but he still thought she was beautiful. "It's not my place to act as your judge or jury, to say what you did was right or wrong. That's not up to me. I hate what happened to you, and if I'd been around, he would've gotten the beating of his life. You're not a bad person, Maria. You've just been through hell. Alone. I can't imagine what that's been like for you."

"God, I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her cheeks with her hands. "I never fall apart like that. Crying never solved anything."

"I know," he replied, and handed her a damp paper towel. "I've seen you be stoic through times that would've brought most people to their knees. Maybe you just needed a good cry."

"Thanks," Maria said before blowing her nose on said paper towel.

"Anytime."

She then turned to the sink to splash some cold water on her face while Steve went to change his shirt. The few minutes apart gave her enough time to marshall what was left of her dignity. It amazed her that the human body could produce so much mucus in one sitting. The crying jag left her understandably drained, but also strangely clear-headed. Stupid emotions.

"You okay?" Steve asked, walking back into the kitchen.

"Yeah," Maria nodded. "Better."

"Good," he smiled. "Y'know, you're welcome to stay here for awhile. We could catch up on some of the movies I've been meaning to watch."

"As much as I'd like to, I've got some things I need to take care of work-wise before tomorrow."

There was no missing the look of disappointment on his face, no matter how fleeting it was. He didn't argue and simply escorted her to the door. His fingers gently caught hers before she could make a clean getaway.

"Before you go…"

The light tug at her hand made Maria turn to face him. A slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth gave her a very big hint about his endgame. Steve made each move slow and deliberate, and was careful to leave her at least one exit just in case she felt like she needed it. He had also gained confidence in knowing how to read her reaction. The way she hesitantly chewed her bottom lip and barely tilting her chin upwards were dead giveaways to him. 

The kiss started out slow. Both tried to gauge their partner's intent. Soft, nibbling kisses gave way to longer, more passionate ones. His teeth gently tugged at her lower lip. Her fingers brushed through his hair. She gasped softly when her back hit the door. He used it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss as she had done the night before.

Maria's head was swimming. She could barely catch her breath, and wondered vaguely if he could hear her heart pounding away. Warmth from his body seemed to seep down into her bones until she almost felt like she was melting. 

Neither one wanted the kiss to end. That much was obvious from the way one of Steve's hand kept a gentle, but firm grip on her waist while the other hand held the back of her neck. Before Steve, she honestly couldn't remember a time when being this close to someone was actually a good thing. 

"How do you… expect me to… go to work… and actually think?" she murmured between kisses.

"I don't," he chuckled softly, and pulled away just enough to speak. "I fully expect that by three pm you'll be ready to throw in the towel. After that, maybe we could go see a movie if you'd rather not stay in."

A warm smile spread across her face. "I'd like that, and staying in is fine. I'll bring the popcorn."

"Sounds good," he grinned and leaned in for another light kiss. "You'd better go before I change my mind, and keep you here all to myself."

That made Maria laugh softly and shake her head. "You're no longer allowed to take dating advice from anyone. You're doing just fine on your own."

"Is that an order, Commander?" he teased.

"Damn right, Captain," she smiled. "See you at fifteen hundred."

"Yes, ma'am."

The door opened, and Maria took a couple steps before turning back around to face him with a teasing smile. "I still think you're an idiot."

"And I still think you're pretty darn special."


End file.
